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“It’s not hurting anything,” I say, gesturing to it.
“It’s apest. You feed it, you feed the problem. You feed one, it brings its friends home. It stays.”
My lips twist as I stroke its soft fur. “At least let me feed it on the porch. For real, this time.”
Loric nods, and I take my plate, carrying the cat with me as I walk out the front door. Setting it on the ground, I toss a chunk of meat at my feet, taking another for myself, wrapping my arms over my chest.
I know Loric’s upset. He doesn’t want me to go, but he’s also insisting that I do. There’s nothing I can do to make him happy right now, but the cat shouldn’t become collateral damage. It’s a baby. It’s lost.
The path to the cottage is just off one of the village streets, and I’m surprised to find it so busy this early. Especially right after the festival. You’d think the villagers would opt to sleep in today.
Something catches my eye, a glint of light bouncing off something from the street, and I squint. Catching the golden handle of a sword. Since when can villagers afford gold swords? I’m used to seeing the guards in the solarian castle wear them, but that’s because the king demands it. Everything as far as the king’s concerned must sparkle and gleam, even though all that gold is surrounded by bones and death.
The world halts, my breath suspended, as my eyes lock onto a ghost, the sword attached at his hip. There, amidst the thrum of the elven village is Asmo, talking to some dark elf, accepting a worn scroll. My heart aches, a sharp, relentless pang, as I watch him. Incapable of moving, ofbreathing.
It’s as if nothing has changed, as if I never left that dungeon and his life simply continued. As if I never existed…
He still refuses to wear a shirt, his body shrouded in scars. His dark hair is still unruly, abused roughly by his fingers, his mismatched eyes smiling as he talks with the man. I’m rooted tothe porch as the kitten purrs, winding through my feet, it’s fluffy tail wrapping around my bare legs.
He starts to leave, waves a goodbye and disappears into the crowded street. As if propelled by an unseen force I can't comprehend, I step off the porch. My bare feet fly across the ground, eating up the distance between us as I push through the crowded street. Creatures of all kinds scowl at me, but I couldn’t care less. I just need to hear his voice, to see his face, to see him look at me one last time. I need to hear him say my name, to feel his arms wrap around me. Just once. Then I’ll leave.
The creatures in the street blur into an array of colors as I sprint, desperate to catch up, to get to him before he can leave and teleport away in a blink of an eye. I have to. My focus narrows to him alone, though I only catch glimpses of him through the crowd–his dark, unruly hair, those mismatched eyes that have made me so whole, soloved, that no one can ever replace them.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve run my fingers over the scar on his face, the one that slices cruelly through his white eye. I can feel it, just thinking about it, every bump, the smooth texture of where it healed. I can feel his lips press to my forehead, hear his voice in my ears, his laugh.
Every stride I take feels like wading through a dream, and the crowd thickens, oblivious to the tempest raging in my chest, to the fact I have to get to him. The glimpses become shorter–a shoulder here, a flash of an amber eye there–and with each sighting, my heart thrashes against my ribcage.
He veers off the cobblestone road, disappearing into one of the many merchant shops that line the street. The door swings shut behind him, and I run. I sprint so fast my lungs scream at the onslaught of air that invades my chest.
Reaching the door, I yank it open, my heart slamming to a stop the moment I see him, sitting at the bar, the scroll resting on the counter beside him as he runs his fingers through his hair.
I’ve made it all this way, I caught up to him, yet standing here, feet away, I can’t bring myself to move another inch. He won’t remember me. Loric made him forget, and the idea of walking those last few feet is like a stab in the gut.
But I have to try… He seemed so sure that he’d find me one day, that he’d make himself remember. Maybe seeing me will help. It could spark something, return his memories somehow.
The bar looms ahead, the walls covered in wooden planks, shrouded in vines that seem to spill from the cracks between them. There’s hardly anyone here. Just a few others who gather around one of the tables. Their voices boom through the air as they laugh to themselves and share in conversation.
I force my feet to move, one joint at a time. They feel heavier than normal, like weights cling to my ankles or they’re somehow shackled to anvils, but I inch closer anyway, dragging my anxiety along with me. The familiar scent of ale and the burning wood washes over me, the hearth crackling off my right, ablaze.
Asmo talks to the bartender as the man slides a glass toward him. It’s like he belongs to this moment and not to the haunted echoes of my past. After the years we’ve spent together, I can hardly imagine him visiting a place like this. He spent every moment he wasn’t fulfilling the king’s orders with me, watching me paint, telling me about his day, about the world he wished I could see with my own eyes. The closest I’d got before meeting Loric was with him projecting memories in my head, showing me the places he visited. The forest, Hell Hold where he grew up, the crystal caverns in the Elven Isles, the villages he’d seen…
I have so many questions, and I’m not sure where to start in asking them. I’m not sure he’d even be able to answer me now.
I draw a breath, my feet moving of their own accord now. Each step towards him is like walking through years of lost memories. My hands tremble, but I’m not scared in the slightest, not of him.
I’m not sure how I’ll feel if he doesn’t recognize me. Relieved that the king can’t torture him, not like he did to find Loric and his sister… At ease with the fact the king will never know I survived… Saddened by the loss of those moments that made me who I am, that made me know what love felt like…
Biting my lip, I stop it from quivering, the sheer intensity of the moment flooding through me, bringing every cell in my being to life. My heartbeat is so shallow it’s practically non existent as I make those final steps. It knows… It knows the moment he looks at me and doesn’t smile, that the man I’ve loved my entire life will be lost. And those memories of us will only exist in my mind, just like the stars.
As I near him, my throat tightens, words jostling for release.What do I say?How do you reach across the void of forgotten love and plead for recognition? My hand reaches out, hesitating in the air between us, but he senses my presence and turns.
For a heartbeat, I see a flicker, a glimmer of something deep within his eyes. Hope surges, fierce and bright, as he smiles wide, only to be smothered by the blankness that swiftly replaces every ounce of expression on his face. “Can I help you?”
Just like that, my heart shatters.
It’s all I can do to press my lips together, to hide the tremble in them as I force air into my lungs.
His jaw twists as he glances away, then turns back to me, a brow arching up. “What? You’ve never seen someone with scars before? Didn’t anyone teach you that it’s impolite to stare?” The muscle in his cheek feathers as he glares daggers into me.
